


Moonshine

by filenotch



Series: Negotiate 2 [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remix of Beneath a Waning Moon by Zoe Rayne, which led to a series.</p><p>John and Rodney meet on the balcony. Every night. To John, it is a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonshine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Beneath a Waning Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/116755) by [Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne). 



John lets out his breath. Rodney is there, and every thought he had as he walked through the corridors to the balcony vanishes for a moment. Then one comes back, its nose under his tent, threatening to bring the rest of the camel of his rationalizations with it. The thought is a question: Does Rodney have any idea what a gift he is?

Another thought, the camel's eyes, to be sure, wants John to walk to the railing next to Rodney, to see his face. He pushes the camel, with the bad puns associated with humps, out of his thoughts. He walks up to Rodney, takes another deep breath, and takes his hips, and then the whole damn camel is there again. The breath comes out with words. "Miss me?"

In his head he hears Rodney's snarky voice saying some thing about how he could expect to be missed in a mere two hours, but John can tell the answer is yes, and he holds fast when Rodney moves as if to turn. This is more than John has ever known as it is, and he can't take, can't risk, too much. This shares the furtiveness he always associates with sex, but never before has he had familiarity. Never has anyone tried so hard to touch him back. John caresses to apologize, trailing kisses that make Rodney shiver. Does he know that John does this because he likes the way Rodney's neck tastes, that he's never had this with any one else? Always, always, the sex has been quick, furtive, silent.

He reaches around, lets his restraining grip become an embrace, and lets his hands wander. Rodney is already hard, and that makes him happy. He's here. He wants this. Parts of John laugh, thinking that he doesn't need the boner under his hand as proof. If Rodney could talk, and John knows he knows better, he would note that his presence, night after night should be evidence enough even for a dimwitted flyboy.

John unzips Rodney's shirt, feeling his chest, the rise of his pecs and the muscle under the sleeves. Rodney is buff for a nerd. He feels the muscles move, feels him reach for his pants and grabs his wrist gently to pull the hand away. Rodney's cock is _his_ ; his responses are _his_. It is the only thing he has that is new, giving, shared.

"Shhh. Not yet."

He takes his time, uses everything he has learned in the last month about what Rodney likes and how to hold him off. John's entire focus is on the feel of Rodney under his fingers, both the hand on his cock and the hand on his chest. He is bigger, more solid, harder than anyone else knows. At least, John hopes no one else on Atlantis knows.

He doesn't make it last too long, but far longer than strictly necessary. Rodney was ready to come the moment he touched him, and that makes John feel... something. The complete, silent abandon that accompanies Rodney's pumping rhythm under his fingers, then the liquid he can feel on his fingers, gives him two contradictory hits to his torso and to his entire groin. It is more than his cock, more than his heart, with an underscore of triumph. I did this, he thinks. He wants this. He wants me.

He waits until Rodney can stand again, then lets go of Rodney's cock. His hand is sticky with semen, and that makes it imperative that he open his own pants, get himself off now with the slickness of Rodney to speed him to climax. He can feel Rodney adjust his clothes, then hands on his thighs and he can't help but breath aloud again, "Oh God, Rodney."

And Rodney says—does not whisper, but says, "Yes. Yes, please."

The voice is all he needs, the thing that breaks the silence. That, and the knowledge that Rodney wants to do more. John knows how to move his hand at the last minute, with the necessity of assuring that Rodney will leave the balcony with no tell-tale stains on the back of his shirt. The move is so practiced, it doesn't diminish how hard he comes.

When he recovers, he gives in to his joy. Rodney is a gift. He understands, and gives John what he needs. He shows up, does not insist for more, and lets the team see nothing. John says everything he cannot acknowledge in a breath, in a kiss on a jaw he notices is freshly shaved, and for that his breath draws again.

He lets it out in a whisper. "Sweet dreams." It is not easy to let go, so he does it quickly and leaves.

There may never be a time when this becomes what he can feel Rodney wants. It isn't what John is, or what he has ever been. He walks back through the corridors, his heart light, nearly drunk with thanks for the joy of the moment, furtive and bright.


End file.
